Always
by mandaplz
Summary: Despite everything that has (and hasn't) happened between Cullen Rutherford and Solona Amell, they never can forget each other. Amell has, in theory, moved on: not just once, but twice. Cullen has tried to lock his memories away with his lyrium. But even as time goes on, part of him clings to his ill-advised infatuation with the mage that was barely his, for barely a moment.
1. Chapter 1

The occupants of Skyhold were in a tizzy, and rightfully so. The Inquistor surveyed the organized chaos in front of him, shifting uncomfortably in his 'throne'. It was indeed a throne, though he was loathe to call it so. It seemed almost… blasphemous, in a way. A Dalish elf, the Herald of Andraste… the leader of the Inquisition, sitting on his throne and ruler of the whole roost. He ran a hand through his silvery blond hair, grimacing. A comforting hand suddenly rested on his shoulder, and he glanced up at his red-haired advisor, offering her a rueful smile.

"There is no need to be nervous." Leliana assured him, her musical Orlais accent soothing his nerves. "The Hero is a kind woman. I'm sure she'll quite like you, Mahanon."

"She is a friend of yours, is she not?" Mahanon asked.

"Yes. Trusted comrades in arms as well as the dearest of friends." The woman smiled.

Mahanon nodded, noting how the advisor on his other side twitched almost imperceptibly whenever the Hero of Ferelden was mentioned. Not that this surprised the Inquistor. Commander Cullen always acted most peculiar whenever the Hero was mentioned in the War Room. According to the giggly gossip Josephine and Leliana exchanged whenever Cullen left, he'd apparently had a boyhood crush on the famed Commander of the Grey.

Suddenly, the bustling throne room quieted noticeably, with the throngs of people parting semi-orderly off to the sides. There was still a soft buzzing as people whispered and chatted under their breaths. Mahanon sat up straighter on his throne, heart pounding. Months of searching, and longer months still of persuasion and pleading were finally coming to fruition. The Hero of Ferelden had been found, alive and well. Now she and a select group of loyal Grey Wardens were arriving to pledge loyalty to _him_ , and the Inquisition. This would make an incredible impact politically, as well as on the battlefield. Yes, it had taken so long. And Mahanon felt anything but ready.

The doors swung open, and the crowd fell silent. Mahanon licked his lips nervously. Twenty Grey Wardens marched in, all in their matching armor of silver and blue. From what he could tell, there were mages, warriors, and rogues alike. Leading the group was a woman clad in the traditional battlemage ensemble, staff strapped to her back. Unusual for a mage, however, were the sword at her side and the majestic helm that hid her face. At her side was her second in command. He was an archer, and carried his helmet under his arm. The man was dark haired, and looked rather displeased to be here. The intimidating glare he shot at the Inquistor and his council did nothing to help Maharon's frazzled nerves.

"Presenting! Commander of the Grey, Hero of Ferelden, Lady Solona Amell." Josephine announced.

The assembled crowd bowed and curtsied, murmuring respects as the ensemble approached the throne. When they stood before Mahanon, they halted. Mahanon held his breath as Amell removed her helm. Long red curls tumbled around her pale face. She smiled wryly.

"Ex-commander, actually…" She amended quietly, before speaking allowed. "I, and the Grey Wardens with me, swear to serve you, Lord Inquisitor. We stand with the Inquisition!"

The crowd erupted into frenzied shouts and applause as the Hero knelt before the throne, her subordinates following suit. Maharon shifted uncomfortably, still unused to being in such a lofty position.

"I… we, uh. Thank you kindly, Lady Amell." He finally managed once the noise had subsided. "We are so very honored to have you here."

Amell stood up, nodding in acknowledgement. Maharon hesistantly slid off his throne, then approached her with an extended hand. She gripped it firmly, her smile looking more genuine.

"It's nice not to be in charge for once. I don't envy you." She murmured, blue eyes twinkling.

Maharon nodded mutely in response, hoping he hadn't come off as ungrateful. A maid scurried to his side, apologizing profusely for interrupting, and asking if she ought show them to their quarters. He gently dismissed her apology, and the Grey Wardens swept out after her.

The rest of the hall dissolved into its usual state, and Maharon turned back to his advisors, looking for feedback.

"That went wonderfully." Josephine praised warmly, causing the tips of his pointed ears to turn red.

Leliana and Cassandra chimed in with their agreement, and the three women began discussing the next course of action with the Inquisitor. Meanwhile, Cullen seemed frozen, staring at the door Amell had vanished through.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ser Cullen." Amell greeted, approaching the startled Templar.

"Oh. Um. Hello. I'm glad to see your harrowing went smoothly." Cullen replied nervously, before rambling on. "Th-they picked me as the Templar to strike the killing blow if… if you became an abomination."

As soon as the words left his lips he regretted. Why on earth did he just say that!? It was true of course. Greagoir had indeed assigned that gruesome burden to Ser Cullen, undoubtedly because his admiration for the redhaired mage wasn't exactly a secret. But telling the object of his affections that he would have killed her was probably the least romantic thing he could say.

"I-it's nothing personal; I swear!" Cullen added hastily. "I… uh. I'm just glad you're alright. You know."

Amell looked surprised at his outburst, but her look softened at his obvious distress.

"Would you have really struck me down?" She wondered aloud, not sure of what else to say.

"I would have felt terrible about it…" Cullen confessed quietly. "But… but I serve the Chantry and the Maker, and I will do as I am commanded."

Amell nodded in understanding, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. Of course she understood. Despite the bad hand a mage was dealt, she was a devoted Andrastian. Though it was an awful thought, if she had become an abomination, she would have needed to be struck down. She then shook her head, recalling why she'd originally sought the Templar ought.

"Are you busy right now?"

"Uh… uh yes." Cullen said automatically. Noting Amell's crestfallen face, he quickly added, "Maybe we can talk another time."

"I'd really like to see you in private… it's urgent." Amell pleaded, her cheeks slightly pink.

It was now or never. Amell was feeling oddly confident after passing her Harrowing, and wanted to strike while the iron was hot. She'd endured the teasing of her peers long enough. Hopefully there was some grain of truth to the rumors… that the handsome young Templar really did reciprocate her feelings. Amell needed to know.

Before her courage could wane further, Amell turned on her heel, red curls bouncing as she left Cullen at his post. He hesitated for a moment, glancing up and down the corridor. They were on one of the upper floors, where only a few of the senior mages lived. Usually only one Templar was assigned to the entire area, since there were so few mages and it was generally quiet. After dawdling only a moment longer, Cullen headed into the room Amell had vanished into.


	3. Chapter 3

Commander Cullen knelt before the statue of Andraste, praying fervently. The small sanctuary was a small room, tucked away at the far end of a Skyhold courtyard. He often came here for privacy, and to ask for guidance and peace.

It had been nearly a month since Solona Amell had arrived with her group of Grey Wardens in tow. Cullen had been avoiding the lot of them, which was no small feat since they often held training sessions with his men. Of course, it wasn't really Grey Wardens that unnerved them. It was one in particular. Two, actually, since Nathaniel Howe had taken to glaring at the Commander icily whenever they did happen to cross paths. It only increased Cullen's paranoia.

Did they know? It seemed everyone knew of his unfortunate infatuation with Solona Amell… he thought he'd long since let go of such feelings. What happened between them was a lifetime ago, and what happened… well, it wasn't really much of anything in hindsight. That's what Cullen told himself anyhow. Who was he to love her, to try and lay claim to her? She had always been destined for greater things.

And… she belonged to another.

Cullen gripped his head in his hands. The unpleasant memories seemed to coincide with his fits of lyrium withdrawal. He growled quietly, willing the pain and shakes to subside. Unbidden, images of Amell and her King Alistair flitted through his mind's eye.

 _I had her first._

 _No, she was never mine._

Cullen groaned in pain, doubling over at Andraste's feet.

"Maker save me."


	4. Chapter 4

Amell had her back to him, arms crossed. Cullen approached her nervously, suddenly second guessing himself. Why had he followed her? This was obviously a terrible idea. Cullen shuffled in front of her, taking in her unreadable expression. He took a deep breath, prepared to stammer out another awkward apology.

He never got the chance.

Amell moved in toward him suddenly, her hand on the side of his face as their lips collided. Cullen hesitated only for a moment before putting his hands at her waist and pulling her in close. He shivered as a breathy sigh escaped Amell's lips. Her kiss grew more passionate, her arms winding around his neck. Cullen surely had gone mad—no, he'd died, and the Maker had seen fit to grant him his deepest desire in the afterlife.

After what seemed to be an eternity they broke apart, gazing at each other. They were both flushed, and unsure of what to say or do. Amell then found herself smiling in a most ridiculous, blissful way. Cullen returned the smile, eyes tender.

"This isn't how I wanted to tell you." Amell finally said, looking mildly embarrassed. "But ah… Well. I think you know what I'm trying to say."

In response, Cullen fumbled with the amulet around his neck, unclasping it. Amell looked at him questioningly as he thrust it toward her.

"It's… my most cherished possession." Cullen explained. "It was blessed by the Revered Mother."

Amell examined the amulet. It looked as though Cullen had made it himself. It was a semi-precious stone, clumsily carved with the Templar symbol.

"Oh Cullen, I couldn't…"

"Please. As a, um. A token of my affection." Cullen turned beet red, unable to express exactly what he wished to say.

Amell nodded in understanding, fastening the necklace on herself. Though not explicitly stated, it was settled then. She was his. At last.


	5. Chapter 5

"Commander."

" _Nathaniel_."

Amell turned around, gazing at her second in command sharply. He smiled in response. He know how much she hated being called that… even when the title was still officially hers. Nathaniel then chuckled, recalling how he'd once been loathe to use the title himself. Now ten years later he was all that remained of Solona Amell's past, and was the only person she truly considered a friend.

"I have news." Nathaniel announced.

"Oh?" Amell raised a brow.

"I happened to hear a conversation between the Inquistor and that dwarf writer-"  
"Naughty boy."

"—Apparently your cousin might make an appearance."

"He is no cousin of mine." She hissed in response.

"Ah, but after years of searching, the fact that Hawke would fall into our laps? Too good of an opportunity to pass up, if you ask me." Nathaniel answered, unperturbed by the mage's anger.

"You really think we'd get away with murdering one of the Inquistor's potentially valuable allies?" Amell scoffed.

"You're the more valuable asset." Nathaniel pointed out.

"Flatterer."

"Perhaps. But justice must be served."

Amell nodded slowly, eyes far away. Nathaniel knelt before her, clasping one of her hands between his own. The two stared at each other solemnly for a moment.

"I swear to you, he shall pay for what he did to Anders."


	6. Chapter 6

Maharon trotted up the stony stairs, trying his best to look casual. Yet another famed member of the Amell clan had arrived at Skyhold, though with significantly less fanfare. Varric had seemingly done the impossible and summoned Garrett Hawke, Champion and Viscount of Kirkwall, out of hiding. And like many before him, the intimidating rogue was prepared to help the Inquisition… to help Maharon.

The elf took a deep breath, hoping he looked dignified as he approached the designated meeting spot. He would have recognized Hawke anywhere. Like most of Thedas, Maharon had read some of Varric's book. And Garrett Hawke was every bit as tall, dark, handsome, and frightening as the story said. Upon spotting Maharon, the man's face split into a grin.

"Hello, your majesty." Hawke quipped.

"Ah. No. Maharon, please." The elf objected uncomfortably.

Varric chuckled. Typical Hawke. The world was (literally) being torn apart, and he still saw no reason to truly be serious.

The unlikely trio began discussing Corypheus, unaware they were being watched closely.

On a rooftop nearby, Nathaniel Howe and Solona Amell lay in wait, bickering quietly. Nathaniel had wanted to bring in the rest of the Grey Wardens, and cause a scene. He argued that Hawke had committed a crime against the Order as a whole by murdering Anders. Amell, on the other hand, wasn't keen on inciting a riot. And though Nathaniel was correct, Amell's interests were less about justice, and more about personal revenge.

Unbeknownst to all of them, an oblivious Cullen was exiting his tower in search of fresh air and a relaxing walk. His head needed clearing, and he was so preoccupied that he might not have noticed the Inquistor, the Champion, and the writer having a conference. Were it not for the sudden commotion caused by two Grey Wardens ambushing them.

Cullen drew his sword reflexively, taking in the odd scene before him. Amell had a sword of her own at a bemused Hawke's throat, while Nathaniel blocked Maharon from interfering. Varric was caught in the middle, and trying unsuccessfully to talk Amell down.

"You are a murderer, and shall pay for your crimes against the Grey Wardens." Amell snarled, not noticing Cullen approaching cautiously.

"Ah. Cousin. Is this how we Amells traditionally greet one another?" Hawke inquired.

"You are NOT kin to me!" She snarled.

"Right, right. We're not closely related at all, actually." Hawke agreed, looking the angry woman up and down appreciatively.

"What in the name of Andraste is going on!?" Cullen finally interjected, making eye contact with Amell for the first time since she'd arrived.

Amell tore her gaze away, glaring back at Hawke.

"You killed Anders."

Hawke frowned, as this was common knowledge, and certainly nothing new. He then saw a glint of gold in Amell's ear. A single gold earring, despite her other ear having no piercing. The earring's mate was in the ear of a long-dead apostate, Hawke realized. This was the girl Anders had once written to, had loved, before Justice took him body and soul.

"You two… I'm so sorry, Solona." Hawke said quietly, voice full of pain and regret. "I cared for him too. He was my friend. But he wasn't Anders anymore. You know that wasn't him. Anders had been gone for a long time."

The hand holding the sword began to shake slightly. Amell blinked furiously, refusing to allow her anger to turn to sorrow. How could he understand? Anders had been her last chance, her last hope. After Anders, Amell knew that the Maker simply didn't plan for the Hero of Ferelden to have love in her life.

Amell sheathed her sword just as suddenly as she'd drawn it. Hawke reached for her, only to be shoved aside as she stormed off, cloak and hair flying behind her. Nathaniel called for her but received no answer. He started after her, but realized it wouldn't help. Instead, the rogue settled for punching a distracted Hawke square in the jaw before vanishing a puff of smoke.

Hawke swore loudly, rubbing his face.

"Will somebody explain what is going on!?" Cullen demanded, rounding on Varric.

"It's pretty obvious Curly." Varric answered glumly. "Red and Blondie had a thing, Blondie turned into an abomination, Hawke did what had to be done."

"Had… a thing." Cullen repeated, finding himself more focused on that implication than anything.

"Yeah. You know, they-" Hawke made a rather crude gesture and snickered, forgetting his aching jaw.

Cullen flushed red, though whether it was from embarrassment or anger he couldn't say.

"I thought she… and the king…" Cullen managed, looking torn between confusion and disgust.

"Oh, that ass?" Hawke frowned. "From what Anders said, I guess the King decided Ferelden couldn't have a mage queen. So he sent Amell to Amarathine, and got hitched to some noble girl."

Cullen nodded mutely, the blood pounding in his head. He'd always told himself that at least he could take comfort in the fact that Amell was happy with that oaf, and well taken car e of. There were all sorts of rumors still, even ten years later, that the Hero and the King were secret lovers. Hell, he'd heard the blasted songs about it sung in the tavern.

The ex-Templar found himself, not for the first time, staring in the direction where Amell had gone.


	7. Chapter 7

The last time Ser Cullen had seen Solona Amell, she had been ushered out by a Grey Warden. There were no goodbyes, or last kisses, or promises of love. Only a short pain filled glance. It was then he'd vowed to put her out of his mind. He knew he could never truly forget her in his heart, but Amell was lost to him now.

Or so he'd thought.

"CULLEN!"

The shaking Templar looked up from his prayer, stunned. The demons had slaughtered his brethren and encaged him, and he'd been praying for Andraste to take him to the Maker's side. Then all at once Amell was here. Here for _him_.

"Amell?" He whispered hoarsely.

With a few waves of her hand, the gleaming purple barrier dissipated as she rushed to him. She was somehow more beautiful than Cullen remembered… her red hair was longer, her blue eyes bigger and brighter than he'd ever seen. Amell was wearing a rather odd, revealing outfit… like some witch from the woods, rather than traditional Circle garb.

"Oh Cullen, my love!" Amell cried, falling to his side and flinging her arms around his neck. "I thought I'd lost you."

"And I you." Cullen replied, returning her embrace eagerly.

"I came back for you." Amell murmured, breath tickling his ear. "I couldn't bear to be without you."

Amell began running her hands through his matted curls, untangling them. She continued whispering sweet, soothing nonsense to the Templar, who continued to cling to her. It was a miracle. By the Maker, she'd come to save him.

"Solona, we must go." Cullen said suddenly, remembering the urgency of the situation. "Uldred has gone mad."

"We shall, love." Amell promised, almost purring. "Just a moment longer."

Cullen frowned, about to protest when Amell pressed her lips to his. It had been so long since he'd held her, _tasted_ her. But something wasn't right… And yet every time he tried to pull back, Amell kept pursuing him aggressively. All at once a feeling of nausea overswept Cullen as he realized what his lover was doing.

"NO!"

Cullen knocked the woman back with a roar. She landed hard on the ground, looking surprised. Amell then tossed her head back, laughing. Cullen watched in horror as his suspicions were confirmed. Her pale skin turned violet, and her lovely features began to twist and sharpen. Soft locks twisted and hardened into horns. Limbs elongated and Amell's voice distorted as the Desire Demon revealed its true form.

"I suppose I tried a little too hard." The demon mused. "I'll have to dig deeper into your memories…"

Overwhelmed, Cullen found himself heaving and retching. The temptress before him laughed sadistically. It had been so long since she'd had a new pet. And she couldn't recall the last time she'd toyed with such a pure, handsome mortal. It was so… _delicious_.


	8. Chapter 8

"Are you ever going to talk to him?"

" _Leliana._ "

" _Solona_."

"No." Amell deadpanned.

The other woman sighed, looking disappointed. In the year they'd travelled together, she had often regaled the Warden with her tales. As an Orlesian Bard she'd had quite a few. Amell's favorites were always the love stories, though she'd sworn Leliana to secrecy. Once (and only once) Amell had even shared a story of her own with Leliana.

The younger girl had shown her companion a crudely carved amulet, and explained how she'd once thought she was in love with a Templar. Leliana was smitten with the idea of the mage and Templar, forbidden lovers who remained true despite all odds. Amell had pointed out that it was a silly infatuation. And besides… another Templar of sorts had caught her eye.

Everyone knew how poorly _that_ had turned out.

"Are you attending the ball?" Leliana asked suddenly, changing the subject.

"At the Winter Palace? Maker, no." Amell looked disgusted.

Leliana frowned.

"But you've never been to an Orlesian event."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Amell replied, causing Leliana to look scandalized.

The rogue recovered quickly however, a sly smile crossing her face.

"Perhaps you might convince our dear commander to dance with you?"

"I'd sooner kiss Hawke."

"That _would_ be a sight…" Leliana mused, eyes suddenly far away.

"He's my cousin."

"Once removed."

" _Leliana_!"

"You deserve happiness." Leliana said simply, suddenly serious. "Whether you believe it or not. Love will come to you yet, Solona. New or old."

Amell sighed, shaking her head at Leliana's earnest expression. She knew her friend meant well of course. But there were simply more important things to worry about. Especially with the threat of Corypheus growing larger by the minute. Amell sincerely hoped that Leliana's unhealthy fascination with her love life wasn't the result of another vision sent by the Maker. She'd had enough of the Maker's gifts for a lifetime.

The two women parted soon after, and Amell walked along Skyhold's battlements, brooding. She had missed Leliana's company over the years. But at the same time, being reunited brought up too many memories. Memories Leliana insisted on discussing whenever they had extended time alone together. Normally Alistair was brought up, or occasionally Anders. And now finally, what she'd dreaded most: Cullen.

Before arriving at Skyhold, the last encounter Cullen and Amell shared had been at Kinloch Hold. It hadn't exactly gone well, seeing as Cullen was out of his mind and thought Amell was a demon come to prey on his soul.

Amell was long past that. She had forgiven Cullen almost immediately. But despite his suffering being at the hands of a demon, she could not help but feel responsible. Had she not given in to their feelings, he would not have been vulnerable. And Amell knew even before, his fellow Templars and their Knight-Commander were suspicious of his feelings, and tormented him regularly for it.

Yes, Cullen's life would have been so much better had Amell not pursued him.

And yet ten years later, she still wore his amulet, tucked safely under the collar of her robes.


	9. Chapter 9

"My dear cousin!"

Amell groaned as the door to her quarters flew open, revealing a cheerful Hawke. She had quickly learned that if Garrett Hawke was happy, it was likely because he was up to something. The Warden had been writing a detailed report on her last excursion with Nathaniel. All mission reports were sent to a certain Commander Cullen, and Amell had been taking extra care to make sure hers were perfect. Despite months of residing at Skyhold together, this was the only way Amell and Cullen communicated: through formal reports. Cullen always followed up on her reports promptly, giving her feedback and often another assignment. As odd (and rather silly) as it was, Amell always looked forward to Cullen's replies. His neat handwriting, the over-formal tone… it was all so very Cullen.

Amell shook herself from her reverie, and regretfully set her quill down. There would be no concentration with her current company. Hawke sauntered over to her desk just as she stood up, backing her up against it. He placed a hand on either side of her, bracing himself on the desk as he leaned in over her.

" _What_?" Amell glowered.

"A little bird told me you have no prince to whisk you away to the ball." Hawke smirked.

 _Leliana_. Amell scowled. She considered trying to make a run for, but didn't want to give Hawke an excuse to grab at her.

"On a more serious note… if you and I were to attend anonymously, we could provide backup for the Inquisitor should things get nasty." Hawke added.

"Take one of my men." Amell replied, looking annoyed.

"They're not my type." Hawke winked.

With a sudden movement of the mage's wrists, a blast of energy sent Hawke flying against the opposite wall. He managed to land on his feet, but was winded nonetheless.

"Fine, fine." He complained, raising his hands in surrender.

Amell rolled her eyes, then turned back to her desk, intent on finishing her book. She jumped as Hawke suddenly spoke in her ear.

"I ought to ask properly."

The redhead whipped around again, this time to see Hawke on one knee. He clasped one of her hands between his, bringing it to his lips.

"Lady Solona Amell, Commander of the Grey, Arlessa of Amaranthine, Hero of Ferelden. Wouldst thou do me the honor of accompanying me to Orlais next week?" He asked solemnly, though his eyes were still bright with laughter.

Amell's free hand massaged her temple, and she sighed in irritation. She was sorely beginning to regret personally coming to Skyhold to offer her assistance.

And yet… it was just one night. One dreadfully boring night, but perhaps it would be a much needed distraction from the usual Inquisition business.

"I have conditions. Most importantly: complete anonymity." Amell finally answered firmly. "No one knows who we are. And our aliases need to be drab and uninteresting."

"Of course." Hawke assured her with a wicked smile. "Just leave the details to me."


	10. Chapter 10

Cullen fidgeted with the hem of his jacket. Why did this accursed outfit have to be so _tight_? Much to his horror, the Orlesian nobles also noticed how well-fitted his dress uniform was. And they commented on it. Repeatedly, and (if he was not mistaken) lustily. Cullen wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. Whenever he tried to make eye contact with Josephine or Leliana, they vanished.

He surely would go mad, he thought. The word 'no' was beginning to sound odd to his ears. And it was obviously a concept his admirers couldn't grasp. Cullen let out a rather undignified yelp as one of the men walking by him pinched his rear appreciatively. He tried to focus instead on the parade of people being announced, and tossed back another glass of champagne. Suddenly, one pair in particular caught his interest, and he nearly choked on his drink.

"Lord and Lady Partridge of Kirkwall!"

A familiar dark-haired man with a wide grin led his companion down the grand stairs. She was petite, but had generous curves that were emphasized by the cut of her ballgown. It was the latest in Orlesian fashion, with a plummeting neckline and a tightly laced corset. Both she and her companion were matching in royal blue with black accents. They each had an elegant mask made of dark feathers as well. But it wasn't the outfits that caught Cullen's attention. At least, not immediately. It was that brilliant red hair, done up in some intricate braided bun.

"Solona." He mumbled in disbelief.

And, if he wasn't mistaken, she was accompanied by none other than her distant cousin Hawke. The couple soon was out of Cullen's sight, and he mentally cursed. What on earth were they _doing_ here?

The Commander insistently excused himself from his growing throng of admirers, and made his way through the crowd. He was a fairly tall man, and Hawke was taller still. Yet Cullen couldn't find him or Amell. He did, however, find a rather amused looking Leliana, who quickly filled him in on her "emergency backup" plan.

Before Cullen could object or demand more details, Leliana had vanished, leaving Cullen to the wolves. His admirers appeared once again, with more disturbing compliments and proposals.

As the evening wore on, Cullen found himself in the same predicament. The monotonous torture was broken only by whispered updates from the Inquistor, and glimpses of Hawke and Amell dancing together. An irrational part of Cullen was bothered by the two of them together. Amell was no longer trying to kill Hawke, but Cullen hadn't thought that meant they were suddenly friends. He clenched his jaw at the sight of Hawke twirling Amell about effortlessly. They earned applause as Hawke dipped her low, kissing her cheek. Amell laughed in response.

And then he heard her scream.

Amell stumbled back into Hawke's arms, clutching at her side. A dark splotch was beginning to spread across her dress. Cullen drew his sword and leapt over the banister. Orlesian guards and the Inquisition representatives also drew their weapons. Guests began to scream and run for cover as demons and human assassins alike attacked.

Cullen battled his way toward where Hawke was defending Amell. He grunted as he was suddenly caught in the shoulder by another assailant. He swung his arm up to defend against the second attacker, then deftly thrust his sword into the other opponent. Cullen spun to face the other man, only for a dagger to suddenly fly into the man's heart. Cullen turned to see Amell with one hand outstretched, the other glowing as she healed her wound.

Hawke was defending her flank, twin swords flashing. Cullen rushed to Amell's other side with a roar, cutting down another attacker. The three of them fought nearly back to back, Cullen and Hawke at close range, while Amell aided them with bursts of flame and lightning.

The battle finally subsided, and the Inquisitor appeared, along with the Empress. Leliana made her way toward Cullen, Hawke, and Amell, looking grim. Apparently, this entire debacle was the result of the Grand Duchess' attempt on the Empress' life. Unsurprisingly, she was another pawn in Corypheus' plot.

* * *

A more organized chaos soon overtook the Winter Palace as frightened nobles prepared to head home. Mages swept about, tending to the wounded. Servants began attempting to clean up the damage. Cullen found himself wandering onto a vacant balcony, seeking fresh air. At least, he'd thought it was vacant.

"Cullen." Amell greeted.

Her elegant hairstyle was falling down, and her luxurious gown was bloodstained. But by the Maker, Cullen still would have sworn she was the most beautiful woman in all of Thedas at the moment.

"Amell." He replied, looking hesitant. "I must confess… I've been avoiding you."

"Avoiding each other." Amell corrected, looking a little embarrassed. "We're a bit old for this game by now."

Cullen nodded, licking his lips nervously. He had so many things to say. At least, he thought he did. His mind was oddly blank.

"I've never seen you fight before." Amell commented, looking at him admiringly. "You're… quite formidable."

"You aren't bad yourself." Cullen managed, eliciting a smile from the mage.

They fell into an odd silence again, though it wasn't as awkward as Cullen had imagined. He was about to apologize, as was in his nature, when Amell spoke up again.

"I have been meaning to try and talk to you. I'd actually, ah… wanted to ask you to dance." She confessed. "Hawke wasn't having it though. The lecher."

"I don't dance." Cullen answered automatically, his tone gruff at the thought of Hawke's hands on Amell.

She nodded sheepishly, toying with one of her loose curls. Of course not. Amell hadn't been sure what she was thinking.

"But uh. For you, I would have tried." Cullen amended hurriedly.

"It's not too late." Amell suggested, looking mischievous.

Cullen frowned, glancing back at the wreckage in the ballroom. There was no place _to_ dance, much less music. Amell moved toward him anyway, guiding one of his hands to her waist while she clasped the other in hers. She rested her free hand on his shoulder and began to hum. It was an old chantry hymn that Cullen recognized, despite how off key Amell was. He chuckled and began to sway along to the 'music'.

"This is going much better than I expected." Cullen commented, looking down at Amell. "I… thought you hated me."

"Hated you?" Amell was startled out of her tune. "By the Maker, why would I?"

"Our last, erm… conversation." Cullen reminded her, looking ashamed.

"Cullen… You were not yourself."

"I was weak. And that weakness caused me to hurt you."

Amell stopped their dance, staring up at him incredulously. Ten years later, and his eyes were still filled with such pain and regret. Amell released their hands, cradling his cheek.

"I forgave you long ago." Amell assured him softly.

"I'm not worthy of your forgiveness." Cullen objected quietly, closing his eyes at her touch.

Amell laughed a little at the sentiment. Cullen frowned, eyes flying back open in confusion. Was she mocking him?

"That's so… _you_." She said fondly. "I… know it's strange to say, after so long… but… I missed you."

The ex-Templar looked down at the mage before him in wonder. He then swallowed hard, unable to identify what he was feeling. Relief perhaps, at finally knowing he need not feel guilty? Or maybe, something a little deeper. Before he could overthink it, Cullen swept a surprised Amell into a tight embrace.

"Thank you."

Actions 


	11. Chapter 11

"Your lady friend is quite pretty." Dorian commented idly.

The Tevinter mage then took advantage of Cullen's spluttering response to capture his rook. Solona Amell had just strode by their chess table, and exchanged a casual greeting with Commander. Most people wouldn't make much of the exchange, but Dorian saw the blush creeping up the back of Cullen's neck.

"This is the one who got away, is she not?" Dorian persisted as Cullen attempted to focus on his turn. "Your first love?"

Cullen miscalculated. And sorely regretted ever confiding anything in his longtime chess partner. Dorian cheerfully declared checkmate just two turns later. Much to Cullen's annoyance, however, Dorian continued to badger him about the Grey Warden.

"We're only friends, Dorian." Cullen sighed. "Surely you've heard the songs? Of the Hero and her King?"

"Yes, yes. Old news." Dorian said impatiently. "I am more interested in the tale of the mage and her Templar!"

"There's nothing to tell." Cullen insisted, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "Have you been gossiping with Leliana?"

"I was just going off my own observations." Dorian mused. "But Leliana, you say?"

Ignoring Cullen's protests, Dorian sauntered away in search of the spymaster. The Commander groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.

"Pondering your next move, Commander?"

He opened his eyes to see Amell had settled into Dorian's vacant seat. She began moving the pieces back to the correct places. Cullen was surprised to see she remembered where they all went. He had once taught her the basics of chess, hidden in the Circle library under the cover of night. But Cullen assumed she'd forgotten. He doubted the Hero of Ferelden had much time for board games.

"I'm quite rusty, but I'm up for a game if you are." Amell looked at Cullen hopefully.

In the weeks since the Winter Palace disaster, Cullen and Amell had been friendly, but at arm's length. They often crossed paths at Skyhold, but usually one or both of them was busy, and hadn't had time for a proper conversation. And so Amell had decided to seek Cullen out herself.

"I'll go easy on you." Cullen promised with a crooked grin.

Despite Cullen making some horrendous mistakes, the game ended in less than thirty minutes with Amell taking the loss. She remembered the rules as Cullen had taught her. But certainly none of the strategy.

"In my defense, you never taught me to play _well_." Amell chided teasingly.

"We'll have to rectify that."

Amell looked up to see Cullen smiling, golden eyes bright.

"I look forward to a rematch then." Amell beamed, standing up to leave. "But for now… I have some reports I've been putting off. Thanks Cullen."

There was a snort behind him as Amell walked off, and Cullen whipped around to see Dorian lounging on a nearby bench.

"'Rectify'…" The mage muttered, too amused for Cullen's liking. "Really Commander, I- OUCH!"

Cullen had thrown a knight piece at Dorian and smacked him square in the forehead.

"Checkmate."


End file.
